


Our Sweet Terrors

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [169]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Beginnings, Don't copy to another site, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 13:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19357693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: "Boss, you have a call."





	Our Sweet Terrors

   “Boss, you have a call.”

   Tony glanced up from the wires he’d painstakingly been winding together to glare at the non-existent AI, “what time is it?”

   “It is currently three am.”

   A phone call at three am from his pre-approved list never boded well. Tony straightened up and attempted to blink the exhaustion from his eyes and clear his throat, “who is it?”

   “The call is from Peter’s phone sir.”

   Tony tensed automatically, wondering why he hadn’t received any reports of disturbances, “put him through, now.”

   One final ring cut off and the audible click of a connection could be heard. Tony’s mouth was already open to demand why the hell Peter was up so late on a school night and whether or not he was ok when the last voice he expected to hear echoed through the speakers.

   “Stark? You there?”

   The deep baritone of Stephen Strange’s voice could not be mistaken. Tony hadn’t heard that voice, let alone seen the man behind it in nearly three months, the time since Titan and the final battle. Hearing it now was both unsettling and a painful reminder.

   “Strange,” he answered once he was sure his own words would be steady. “Why do you have Peter’s phone? Is he alright?”

   “He’s fine. Mostly.”

   Tony gritted his teeth against the smile that wanted to break out at the familiar aggravating tone, “you aren’t inspiring much confidence here Doctor.”

   On the other side of the line he thought he heard an audible crash somewhere in the distance, further confirmed by a whispered swear, “Stark I need you to come and get your charge.”

   Tony was already standing, “what’s wrong with him?”

   “Its complicated and not a conversation I’d like to have over the phone. I’ll make a portal for you.”

   The line clicked off before Tony could protest. He wasn’t fond of portals though it was obvious Strange didn’t care for that opinion. Waiting awkwardly in the middle of his workshop, Tony contemplated the odd turn of events that landed Peter at the Sanctum of all places. He didn’t even know the kid knew where it was.

   He also couldn’t help the small twist of anticipation in his stomach at the realization he was about to see Strange face to face again for the first time in months.

   A spiral of orange sparks came to life only a foot in front of him, and through it, Tony could just make out the signature wood and clutter that made up the Sanctum. He took a deep breath, willing himself not to panic, and stepped through.

   Just like that he was standing in front of Strange, who looked unimpressed and very possibly a bit stressed. There were no greetings, or pleasantries, simply a gruff, “follow me,” and they were striding through the Sanctum.

   Tony could admit he was a little miffed at that.

   The thought was forgotten when they stepped in the expansive living room and found Peter laying unconscious on the ornate couch with a familiar red Cloak curled around him protectively.

   Tony’s heart stopped for a minute as the made his way to Peter’s side, eyes taking everything in frantically. There didn’t appear to be any major physical injuries though his face was incredibly pale creating a stark contrast to the dark bruises beneath his eyes.

   “What’s wrong with him?” Tony hissed, unwilling to yell and wake him.

   Strange was standing a few feet back, arms crossed, and expression oddly…regretful.

   “Come and have a seat so we can talk. He won’t wake up; I’ve spelled him for a few hours at least.”

   Tony didn’t even think to protest that, instead following Strange to the chairs pulled close to the fireplace. All Tony would have to do is turn his head and he’d be able to keep an eye on Peter. Even knowing the kid was safe here in the Sanctum under Strange’s guard, the impulse was difficult to curb since Titan.

   He looked across the small space between them to find the sorcerer staring into the crackling embers. It was just a little bit surreal to be sitting next to him after all these months. Tony had wanted to, really really wanted to contact him in the aftermath.

   There had been so many unanswered questions and too many sleepless nights with that deep voice echoing in his ears. His nights and days had been haunted by two distinct figures, Stephen Strange and Peter Parker.

   While the one had been perfectly reasonable, a child under his charge, the other…was an anomaly. Tony had barely known the man for the better half of twelve hours, yet he hadn’t been able to get him out of his head, those damn words; _there was no other way_ , taunting him, always taunting.

   Then everyone come back, and Tony thought it would all fade. Thought he’d finally get his answers and be rid of that voice and presence at the back of his mind. Naturally, he’d been wrong. In the chaos of the clean up, Strange had slipped away and Tony kept intending to visit but it just never happened.

   Now here he was.

   “Peter hasn’t been sleeping,” Strange murmured.

   Tony blinked, took in the lines of exhaustion on the sorcerer’s face, “I don’t think anyone’s been sleeping.”

   That earned a half smile, but it quickly sobered, “I ran into Peter unintentionally tonight. He was patrolling because he couldn’t sleep but it was obvious he was ready to pass out at any moment. Tired is a dangerous thing to be at times like those.”

   Tony frowned. Of course, he knew the kid wasn’t resting well just yet, didn’t expect him to with the hell he’d been through. Both him and May had talked about it and agreed that in time it would fade and until then Peter would attend the new therapy programs popping up by the hour. Apparently, it wasn’t working.

   “Did he say anything?”

   Stephen grimaced, eyes glancing toward the sleeping figure, “he would appreciate it if his Aunt didn’t know, which is why I called you.”

   Tony nodded, quiet.

   He had a sneaking suspicion for a while now. Peter, who was usually a ball of energy, bubbling and excitable wasn’t bouncing back in the way any of them had expected. The kid had been through a major trauma, sure, but it wasn’t his first. More importantly, however, was the shadows in those eyes, the distant look he’d sometimes get, the way his body would sway on a hard breeze.

   “It was different for him, wasn’t it? Being dusted.”

   Stormy eyes met his and Stephen, because Strange was too impersonal for a man so concerned about Peter, nodded slowly. Trembling fingers curled together in his lap and Tony got the impression of a man steeling himself against something.

   “Peter’s spidey-sense,” he gave a half laugh at the term. “made the experience very…visceral. He knew something was happening before most people and his heightened awareness let him feel every piece of himself float away.”

   Tony’s breath caught, horrified by description, even knowing it should have been obvious. Swallowing thickly, Tony forced himself to ask, “did it hurt?”

   Stephen paused, head tilting as though confused about the question, until finally, hesitantly he admitted, “I don’t know.”

   “How could you not know?” Tony shook his head, “you felt it didn’t you?”

   “I’m not the person to ask. My past has coloured my experience with death and pain.”

   The statement was vague but all it took was one look at painfully confused eyes to know Stephen wasn’t referring to the car crash Tony had seen plastered over news sights when he’d researched the man. There was a story there and Tony suspected that for him, Titan wasn’t quite as drastic, dying not so meaningful as it was to everyone else.

   Tony bit his lips against protesting because it had been meaningful to him, had kept him up at night and still did. He also had to hold back the apologies crowding his throat at the realization he’d all but abandoned the man who saved his life.

   “Listen,” Tony began carefully. “I’ll bring the kid to the tower to rest and in the morning, if you wouldn’t mind…I’d like to bring him back here to speak with you.”

   Stephen frowned, “I don’t think I’m-”

   “He respects you,” Tony interrupted. “He needs to speak to someone whose been dusted too. I know you said your experience was unusual and I think that’s exactly the kind of perspective he needs, whether or not it’s a different kind of unusual.”

   The protest was on Stephen’s lips so Tony said the only thing he could, “please.”

   To Tony’s surprise, Stephen flinched at the word, those colourful eyes seemingly grief-stricken but before he could ask what was wrong, the sorcerer nodded, “ok.”

   “Ok,” Tony repeated.

   There were millions of questions on his mind. Thousands of answers he needed to know. None of them felt quite so pressing now that he sat in Stephen’s presence because he decided right then and there, to stop being a coward. Peter needed Stephen and Tony needed him to, had needed him since Titan where that voice and those eyes had imprinted themselves on his brain.

   He planned on seeing him in the morning and every day after that.


End file.
